Quotes About Intrigue

And yet still she watched him... he wondered why. One possibility, and by far his favorite, was that she was planning his murder.

He flicked off the light switch, setting the alarm system. Overhead he could hear Reno—music that could only be Japanese hip-hop, for God's sake, and thumps and bumps. Either he had half a dozen girls up there on the floor and he was doing them one by one, or he was doing some sort of exercise. Or dancing. The thought of Reno dancing was enough to send cold shivers down Peter's spine. He preferred the notion of an orgy.

I eat gaijin for breakfast… His words trailed off as Jilly came out of the house, in her pseudo-frock, her combat boots, her spiky hair and her young, young face. He just stared at her, motionless, as if someone had clubbed him over the head with a mallet. Jilly froze where she was, staring back at the exotic creature in black leather and bright red hair who'd invaded the garden.

You can get an erection less than an hour after I've tried to kill you? she said in disbelief. Just how perverse are you? Let me show you.

The child in the middle of the room was glaring at him, for child she was, no matter what her advanced years. She was a virgin, untouched, unkissed, innocent and angry, and he was prepared to enjoy himself immensely. So tell me, little one. What really brought you here?

She was playing with fire. He could talk a nun into an orgy.

He pushed away from the door, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He looked like the devil, he thought with a trace of wry amusement. And dear, sweet, murderous Emma was a Botticelli angel, ripe for debauching.

What was it about her that caught at his soul, when he no longer had one?

Alex Barrow's broad face, with the roughened skin that gave him an air of experience. His powerful, packed, wrestler's body. The thick black fur at the base of his throat. It was wrong to call him handsome, although all the women did. Really he was almost ugly, but in a stirring, thrilling way that made her shift in her seat as she thought about him.

They knew all about Jin-Ho because Jin-Ho's mother had telephoned two weeks after the babies' arrival. "I hope you don't mind my tracking you down," she'd said. "You're the only Yazdans in the book and I just couldn't resist calling you to find out how things were going." Jin-Ho, it seemed, was doing marvelously.

Why! he always thought to himself. What was that little redhead doing by the side of

I had been chipping at the world idly, and had by accident uncovered vast and labyrinthine further worlds within it.

There is something you find interesting, for a reason hard to explain. It is hard to explain because you have never read it on any page; there you begin.

She sits there for some time, poring over it repeatedly, and you're intrigued to imagine what it might contain, and particularly long to know the words that cause a momentary smile -- but since she's seated at some distance from you, all you can do is guess at the meaning of the parts where the ink is blackest.

A white, gummy substance smeared on the club's plate-glass window blocked a view of the interior from the sidewalk. Inside, signs on the wall read: "Tough Guys Don't Squeal," "Don't Talk. This Place Is Bugged" and "The Enemy Is Listening.

Foul whisperings are abroad

Well said, old mole!

Your Royal Grace, Forgive my boldness. If I might inquire: How old are you? —Kimber

Don't be stupid, privacy is an illusion in today's electronic world. And i always investigate the people who interest me

Your luck is about to change, Abby.' His voice was low and velvety. 'I know a lot about you. I know how to get into your apartment. How to turn your cat into a noodle. The magnets on your fridge, the view from your window. Your perfume. I could find you blindfolded in a room full of strangers.' His fingers penetrated the veil of her hair, his forefinger stroking the back of her neck with controlled gentleness. 'And I learn fast. Give me ten minutes, and I'd know lots more.

Messages continued to arrive from the Earl of Warwick, urging Londoners to hold firm for King Harry. Marguerite d'Anjou and her son were expected to land at any time, while from St Albans, Edward sent word that Harry of Lancaster was to be considered a prisoner of state. At that, John Stockton, the Mayor of London, contracted a diplomatic virus and took to his bed.

She opened her mouth, clamped it shut again. This was new, this sudden favor shown Gloucester, had been brought back with him from Burgundy like some malevolent foreign pox.

You seem to forget, Dickon, that we are dealing with the Spider King. Louis realized, just as you have, that it would take more to mate dog to cat than a shared lust for the English crown.

The book is Brittany and the Angevins: Province and Empire, 1158–1203, by Judith A. Everard